


Crystal Clear

by ferowyn



Series: Hobbit Kink [16]
Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Bilbofur - Freeform, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferowyn/pseuds/ferowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the BoFA Bilbo receives only mistrust and decides to leave Erebor. However, he does not know yet that he will be forced to return rather soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystal Clear

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme Prompt:  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2235.html?thread=3087803#t5351355
> 
> Please excuse any mistakes, English is not my mother tongue
> 
> Okay, this one is a little stupid and overly melodramatic. Enjoy xD

## Crystal Clear

Bilbo felt miserable. He did not know what was worst, though. The sickness that had been plaguing him for days now and the source of it he could not find, or the dull ache in his heart that never went away completely, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, or the mistrust that he found wherever he went, regardless of what he said, or the knowledge that he would have to leave soon, returning to the Shire he suddenly no longer missed at all.

Erebor was beautiful.

They had won (he still found himself unable to believe that) and at the moment word was taken everywhere that the heirs of Durin had reclaimed their throne and treasure. Bilbo did everything he could, helped wherever he was needed, but wherever he went he was eyed warily. He would not have minded had it only been the dwarves from the Iron Hills who did not trust him, but seeing the same mistrust in the eyes of his own companions hurt him deeply.

Yes, he had taken the Arkenstone.

He had explained his reasons to each and every single one of the dwarves, but they could not forgive him betraying them like that. He had wanted to save their lives, but they had risked said lives for the Arkenstone more than anything else, thus his reasoning fell on deaf ears. Bilbo knew, the cultural differences between their two races were huge, but he had not thought them this insurmountable. If he had, he would never have… never mind.

Suppressing the thought that would dampen his mood even more he continued sorting the many old books and scripts in the old library of Erebor that had been wondrously undestroyed. He was alone and glad for it. Actually it was quite rare that he would be left alone anywhere except the room Thorin had given him these days, and he barely could stand the mistrust any longer. No matter how much he wanted to stay here, no matter how much the thought of leaving hurt, he had already told the others he would be gone within a fortnight and Gandalf had announced that he would accompany him. He was very glad for the wizard’s offer, for the road was dangerous and he really was in need of a friend.

For some reason Gandalf seemed to be very cross with Thorin (though only with the leader, he did not seem to be angry at the rest of the group – except maybe Bofur) and appeared to be very eager to leave.

Bilbo sighed heavily, his fingers running over a particularly old manuscript. He could not read it anyway – it was written in Khuzdul – but it contained a few maps, which the hobbit had always found incredibly fascination. Now, however, the faded lines showing the deep rivers and high mountains of distant lands could not intrigue him. He found his thoughts wandering and felt his heart rate quicken when he remembered soft touches and quiet moans. Maybe he did not have to leave, maybe if he stayed… _No_. It was not going to happen again, no matter how much he yearned for it. Besides, that would probably break him. He had never known when to say no for his own sake.

Bilbo had to admit he was really glad that Gandalf had already set a date for their departure, for otherwise he would surely change his mind about leaving.  
He did not belong here. He was not happy here. The dwarves made him feel unwelcome and alone, they made him feel that whatever he did, it would never be good enough. Still, he would stay here, if only to catch glimpses of that one dwarf he would miss (rather already missed) most. He knew he was very good at that – dreaming and dwelling on things he could not have. It hurt now, and it would hurt even more afterwards, but he could take that if he only got those few moments that made his heart race and his head feel light. Those moments when everything seemed to be okay and nothing did matter, even if they were ever-so-short, were worth a lot.

He tried to concentrate on the books and maps once more, but there was no way he would be able to finish his duties of today. The sickness had gotten worse, along with a terrible headache and he felt like he had never been more tired than at the moment. Surrendering to his own body he left the library and retired to his room. It did not matter anyway if he did not do his work, the company could hardly be any more disappointed in him than they already were. He simply crawled into his bead, groaning, but sleep eluded him. He did not have much time left here as it was and now he was getting sick… great. Just great.

Bilbo refused to think about the fact that such a sickness was not common for hobbits – had it been food poisoning or a fever would it already be over – and what else might be the reason for it. The only thought that occurred to him was way too scary to deal with right now, in his miserable condition. He ignored the tiny little voice in his head telling him that if this were the reason indeed he would not be getting better any time soon.

 

The day of their departure had finally come and Bilbo found himself disappointed despite the knowledge that this would happen when only Balin came to see him off, Fili and Kili waving from the distance when hurrying to do who-knew-what, not even taking the time to say goodbye.

Balin smiled sadly and for once Bilbo found his eyes free of any mistrust or anger. “He is going to calm down, laddie. Have a safe journey.” With that he simply turned around and left, shoulders square.

The hobbit mounted his pony, trying to ignore Gandalf’s angry rambling. “… calm down! Yes, but when? In two hundred years? And what then? He would be too stubborn to apologize anyway.” He started to lead his horse towards Dale, the ruins bustling with movement. The men of Laketown were rebuilding the city and all of them greeted the old wizard and the hobbit when they rode by.

Gandalf had spent the last few weeks (those weeks that Bilbo had been trying to be happy in Erebor) here and in Mirkwood, meddling like only he knew how, and trying to save Middle Earth… or what else it was that the old wizard did in his spare time. Bilbo could not bring himself to care.

Just when they left the city the hobbit turned around and for a second he thought he saw a dwarf with a flap-eared hat in the distance, but when he blinked and looked closer there was only the raw wasteland Smaug had left behind. Then they rode for Esgaroth, Gandalf still grumbling, and then set to follow the Celduin, but the darkness of the night came sooner than expected and the wizard decided to stop fot the day.

“We better not draw any attention towards us,” he muttered and Bilbo sighed heavily. That meant no fire. Well, he would be cold anyway – he had been freezing every night since he had gotten to know the warmth he was still craving, even when sleeping under the thick furs of the bed in Erebor. He was incredibly exhausted and thus missed the wizard’s concerned gaze.  
The hobbit had no idea how he was supposed to make it through this journey.

 

Fortunately it was already the next day that Gandalf found out about everything, for with the growing distance to Erebor and the Elven King’s Halls help moved farther and farther away.

Bilbo had felt terrible when they had started to continue their journey at first sunlight but had said nothing, even though he was well aware that something was wrong, hobbits did not feel that bad unless their body was trying to alert them. What was he supposed to do, though? Return? Force his unwanted presence upon the dwarves? Or worse – go for Thranduil’s healers and risk the King under the Mountain’s everlasting hatred? Both possibilities were no option for him, thus he decided to ride on and hope that he would feel better in a few hours.

He did not. He felt worse, actually, and the sun was high in the sky when Gandalf finally realized the reason for his agonies, although the hobbit himself was still refusing to think about them. By now he was writhing because of abdominal cramps, deathly pale and with beads of sweat on his forehead. The wizard did no longer hesitate, but simply grabbed his friend, lifted him and sat him down in front of him (ignoring the smaller one’s heavy protests), and spurred his horse, riding hard for the place they had just left, the pony trailing behind them as fast as it could. They reached Laketown in the late afternoon where Gandalf asked for another horse and hired one of the men to look after the pony. The rested stallion carried them towards the lonely mountain with new energy and at nightfall the Grey Wizard was demanding entry to Erebor.

The guards hesitated, even upon the sight of the by now unconscious hobbit, but then Gloin came by and motioned for Gandalf to follow him, already having sent for his brother. “His majesty is not going to be happy,” he muttered and the old wizard was seething. Startled by the furious darkness he was suddenly eradiating the dwarf led them to the healer’s halls (one of the first places that had been restored) without another word.

When Gandalf gently lay the hobbit down on one of the beds Bilbo regained consciousness with a start, panting. He curled, arms wrapped around his abdomen. “Gandalf,” he whispered, his voice thin and terrified, which made Gloin gulp heavily “what’s happening?”

“Shh.” The wizard’s hands were running through his wet locks. “Oin’s going to be here any minute.” The door opened and Bofur ran into the room, pale and close to panicking.

Bilbo, who had not realized his presence, started up once again. “You brought me back?” He winced.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. “What else did you expect me to do?”

“But they don’t want me here!”

Bofur was about to object, being stopped by Gloin, when Oin finally arrived. “Abdominal pain?” he asked, palpating the hobbit’s belly, and Bilbo screamed.

Gandalf, who had thrown Gloin and Bofur out, sighed heavily. “Pregnant and probably miscarrying.” His eyes were unusually dark and sad.

Oin growled lowly. “Too much stress,” he concluded.

Bilbo wailed with pain and disbelief. “No! _Please_ …”

The wizard took his hand, squeezed it slightly. “Please tell me I am not really pregnant or please tell me I am not really losing my child?”

“Both,” Bilbo choked, tears running down his face. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. If the child survived this – hobbit babes were terribly sensitive for stress or bad feelings whatever source of, especially if they were carried by males – he would have to tell _him_ , and then he would be allowed to stay here although everyone in Erebor wished him to be as far away as possible. He could not ask this of him.

“We could probably save the babe, but only if he calms down. I cannot sedate him, though, if I do not want to risk harming the child.”

Gandalf gnashed his teeth. “Tell the father.”

Oin, raising an eyebrow, ignored Bilbo’s desperate “No!” and went for the door. When he opened it he found not only his brother and Bofur, but also Fili, Kili, Ori and Dwalin, all of them trying to catch a glimpse of the agonizing hobbit. However, the healer was standing in the doorway, blocking their view. “Bofur? I need you in here. Dwalin?”

“Balin is distracting him,” the broad dwarf growled and Oin nodded thankfully, letting Bofur into the room and closing the door.

Bofur, who was already worrying himself sick, watched the hobbit helplessly. “What can I do?”

Bilbo gave Gandalf a desperate look. “How…?”

The wizard snorted. “My dear Bilbo, everyone knew. Which is probably the reason why… ah, never mind, he can tell you that himself.” He then turned around and faced Bofur. “Master Baggins here is with child. Calm him down, or he will lose the baby,” he explained, shortly and crisply. He then made for the door, Oin following him. “If you need anything – call us. I am going to keelhaul a certain king.” With that he stomped off, the door closing behind the healer.

Bofur was out of words. He simply stared at Bilbo, who refused to look at him, with wide eyes. “Is… it true?” he finally managed to ask, hoarsely and unbelievingly.

“I am afraid so.” Bilbo’s voice was strained.

The dwarf gulped heavily. “… ye don’t want them?” When Bilbo looked up he saw an unexpected fear in the older one’s eyes.

“I don’t want to raise the child alone,” he slowly admitted, continuing when Bofur opened his mouth to say something “and I don’t want to force my presence upon you although you do not want it.”

The dwarf seemed to be out of words once more. “Why wouldn’t I want ye to be with me?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, snorting. “Why would you?”

Bofur gulped again and hesitantly took one of the hobbit’s hands between his. “… because I love ye?”

The younger one closed his eyes in pain, turning his head away. “Stop it. You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend that you like me. I know you don’t, but that’s okay.” It was not. “Just don’t lie to me.”

The dwarf shook his head. “I’m not lyin',” he answered. “Why would I?”

“To make me feel better?” Stupid question.

Bofur sighed. Yes, he would probably do that. Still… “I am not lyin’!”

Suddenly Bilbo was angry. “Then why did you never say anything after that night? Why did you look at me as if I were disgusting after the battle? Why did you not even say goodbye when I left??” New tears were welling up in his eyes.

The dwarf did not dare to look at him. “Because Thorin told me so.”

Bilbo was speechless. “… _What_?”

Bofur gulped once more. “He didn’t want me to concentrate on ye instead of the quest. He’s me king, I couldn’t really refuse to follow his orders, could I? Especially not with winnin’ him his throne back bein’ the main purpose of that idiotic quest. I thought I could talk to ye as soon as Erebor was ours and I was free to concentrate on what I wanted, but then that stupid thing with the Arkenstone happened and he commanded us all to never trust ye again.” He shook his head. “We were all tryin’ to make him change his mind but he’s incredibly stubborn, even for a dwarf. I thought about actin’ counter to his orders, but that would’ve had me banned from Erebor. Well, I would’ve done it if I had thought that ye wanted me to come with ye.” He looked terribly uncertain of himself.

Bilbo let his head fall against the cushions and laughed a thin, hysterical laughter. Then he took a deep breath and looked directly at Bofur. He wanted to – he _needed_ to – believe the other one that he really loved him, otherwise he would lose that child. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“… to the Shire?”

Bofur, who was still holding his hand, squeezed his fingers gently. “Ye don’t want to stay here?”

The hobbit huffed. “You seriously think Thorin would let me?”

The corners of the older one’s mouth twitched. “I think Gandalf is goin’ to turn him into a toad if he doesn’t.” Bilbo could not suppress a tiny chuckle and Bofur was ridiculously happy for that. “Besides, the circumstances changed. Ye are carryin’ me child.” There was something in his eyes that took Bilbo’s breath away, something deep and longing and loving. He gasped for air and Bofur smiled affectionately. “There aren’t many dwarvish women and thus also very few children. No dwarf would throw ye out of Erebor if ye are with child, and if Thorin tried he would’ve lost his throne faster than he could say Arkenstone.”

Bilbo felt the relief surge through his body. He offered the dwarf a hesitant smile and was rewarded with the older one’s ear-to-ear-beam.

“So… ye are goin’ to stay? Here? With me?”

“If everyone else is fine with it… ?”

“They better be,” Bofur growled, hands twitching. He may have been a mere miner before this quest, but now he was as much a warrior as Dwalin, lined with the lingering shadows of a cruel battle. Bilbo had seen the change in all of them. Not only he was no longer the same hobbit who had left the Shire, that also applied for every single one of the dwarves, even for Thorin.

Bilbo, still curled, would have been absolutely content with lying there, clinging to his dwarf’s hands and looking at that beaming smile, but they still did not know whether the baby was fine. “We should call for Oin,” he said reluctantly, not wanting to let the moment slip away just yet.

Immediately Bofur’s eyes were filled with worry. “What’s wrong?”

The hobbit smiled reassuringly. “Only to make sure everything’s okay… now that I calmed down.”

The older one nodded. “Ye’re quite right,” he murmured and rose. “I’ll go get him.” Bilbo found it ridiculously hard to let go of the dwarf’s fingers.

Bofur quickly bent down and planted a kiss on the hobbit’s forehead before he went for the door. “Oin?” His eyes widened when he saw that by now everyone but Thorin was present – even Balin had come.

The white-haired dwarf chuckled when he saw Bofur’s gaze. “He and Gandalf are currently competing on who has the louder voice.” Bofur must have looked utterly bewildered, for Balin’s chuckle grew louder before he explained: “Gandalf stormed into the council, his expression murderous, and he immediately started to yell, and Thorin yelled back, and the rest of us cut and ran. I think he still does not know why Gandalf is so angry – none of us do, by the way, only Oin, and he will not talk –“ The healer was given quite a few dirty looks “but we all know that it has to do with Master Baggins. So, tell me, laddie – what’s going on here?” His old, wise eyes were shining with untamed curiosity.

Bofur shook his head, a little dazzled. “I need Oin,” he managed to say and the healer followed him back into the room, ignoring the angry comments of their nosy company.

Bilbo looked a little shocked when they came back. “Everyone is here?”

“Aye,” Bofur smiled. “I told ye, we were all only followin’ the king’s orders.”

Oin muttered something incomprehensible into his beard and this time Bilbo did neither scream nor flinch when his belly was palpated. The healer nodded, satisfied. “That’s good. No pain – means everything’s fine. No stress from now on, though.”

Bofur’s face was serious when he answered. “I’ll be makin’ sure of that.”

The hobbit smiled affectionately when he was startled by a sudden uproar. “... are going to tell me _right now_ what’s going on here!” they heard the king yell.

“You are a child, Thorin Oakenshield, a defiant child who cannot let go of anything that has pricked your pride,” Gandalf roared. “Believe me, if I-“

Then Thorin stormed into the room, followed by Gandalf and the rest of the company who took their chance. For a few seconds nobody moved when the king saw Bilbo lie on the bed. Then the temperature seemed to fall a few degrees. “You brought the traitor _back_?” His voice was only a whisper, but could not have been cooler.

Bilbo knew, he was supposed to stay calm and that any kind of stress or emotional upset could be disastrous, but he could not suppress the cold fear starting to run through his veins, as well as the deep hurt. He could not breathe, gasping for air but unable to fill his lungs with it. Gandalf, who had seen his reaction, was _really_ angry now, but before he could do anything Bofur was suddenly stepping in front of the king, his mattock in hand.

Bilbo was close to seriously panicking, knowing his beloved would not stand a chance against the King under the Mountain (which was ridiculous, they would not fight, but at the moment the hobbit was not able to think straight) but felt a sweet warmth in his chest when the events unfolded. Bofur’s voice was calm but as cold as Thorin’s. “He is carrying my child.” After those words he turned around, returned to his place at the bedside and took Bilbo’s hand. It was a very clear statement.

While the rest of the company burst into cheers after they had overcome their surprise the hobbit watched Thorin’s expression. For a fleeting moment he seemed to be… hurt? But then his face went back to blank. However, there was something in his eyes that Bilbo could not quite place, something heavy and mournful and disappointed and bitter. The king turned his head away.  
“I expect he will move into your chambers?”

Bofur exchanged a quick look with Bilbo before smiling broadly. “Yes.”

“I will visit him tomorrow to talk about… everything.” With that the king stormed off.

 

Bilbo was not sure whether he should be amused or annoyed. Bofur was being incredibly cute, mothering him and making sure everything was alright, but he was exaggerating a little. Since Bilbo had felt fine after Thorin’s sudden departure Oin had told them to go to their rooms. Gladly the couple had obeyed, sending the rest of the company off wherever they had to go. Only Fili and Kili had come with them, terribly curious as always. They had apologized for treating him according to their uncle’s orders and told many a joke, sending the hobbit into giggles repeatedly. Still, Bilbo had been relieved when they finally had reached their ( _their_!) chambers and the two princes had also left, leering and wolf whistling. However, Bilbo had learned to ignore them when they got too annoying.

The second the door had been closed Bofur had been everywhere, fussing and running around the room like a caged chicken.  
Bilbo had been watching him for quite a while now, sitting on the bed, completely content with finally being able to stare at him freely, but he was slowly coming to the end of his patience. “…Bofur?”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”  
The dwarf obeyed and sat down next to him. “I’m fine. There’s only one thing I need, everything else can wait.”

“What?”

Bilbo chuckled. “You.”

“… oh.”

Bilbo cuddled into the dwarf whose fingers were running through his locks.

“I didn’t know that male hobbits could carry children,” Bofur finally murmured after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

The younger one lifted his head. “Not? It’s not a secret…”

“Well… we dwarves have never shown much interest in halflings,” he admitted, his cheeks showing a faint shade of red.

“Hmm. As long as you don’t mind that you ended up with a pregnant hobbit after a fling in the woods…”

“Are ye kiddin’ me? Of course I don’t mind! Didn’t ye listen earlier? Children are rare in our halls. Most of us never have any… I thought I’d never have any. Ye are makin’ me incredibly happy! And it was no fling!” He kissed the younger one affectionately.

Bilbo’s cheeks reddened. “I… may have a few… self-esteem issues after the last weeks.”

Bofur smiled sadly. “I’ll tell ye that I love ye and that none of it was your mistake until ye believe me.”

The hobbit gulped. “The Arkenstone was my mistake.”

“Ye couldn’t have known what would happen – ye couldn’t have known our greed.” He shakes his head. “And now stop thinkin’”

“And what should I do instead?” the younger one asked, eyes sparkling.  
Instead of an answer he was pressed onto the bed and kissed fiercely. Well, that definitely was a lovely alternative.

They spent the rest of the night kissing and cuddling and being cute and when they finally fell asleep, Bofur spooning him and holding him tight, Bilbo forgot about all the pain of the last weeks.

 

He remembered it, however, when there was a heavy knock at the door the next day. Bofur had had to leave and Bilbo had stayed in the rooms they were now sharing (he still could not believe it), waiting for Thorin.

He opened the door and let the king in, offering him a chair. He could not bring himself to look at the dwarf, not wanting to see the hatred in his eyes yet again. When Thorin spoke, however, his voice was full of regret, not hate. “I came to apologize.”

Bilbo almost choked.

The king sighed heavily, still standing and facing the wall. “When I first met you,” he started to explain, slowly and heavily “in Bag End I was intrigued. You had something about you I could not quite grasp, but it fascinated me. And I hate mysteries, especially if they are as dangerous as you.”

Bilbo gasped for air, but rather out of shock than anger.

For the first time since hearing about his pregnancy Thorin looked at him directly. “You had the power to distract me – you still have – from Erebor, which I have been craving for so long. That was dangerous. However… I owe you an apology, Master Baggins. Jealousy is no justification for misuse of power.”

The hobbit’s eyes widened. “Jealousy? Misuse of power?”

Thorin smiled sadly. “When Bofur took you into the woods… and both of you came back so ridiculously happy… I told him he had to stop seeing you. I watched you for the following weeks, as always, and I saw your pain when he suddenly ignored you… and I should have stopped it, I should have told him to make you happy, but I couldn’t. I was so angry that I had lost yet another thing I held dear. And then the problem with the Arkenstone…”

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo interrupted.

“No.” The king shook his head. “I am. I was just… I had found a way to suppress my feelings for you, to turn them into anger. And I had an excuse for making you leave, because maybe then it would stop hurting… it didn’t.” The hobbit listened, awed by the sudden openness. “I have regretted many things in my life, and pushing you away when we had barely left the Shire is among them. I had thought it would change something about what I felt for you. Of course it didn’t.” He laughed bitterly. “Maybe if I had not done that… maybe if I had been nice… maybe you would have chosen me. Well, it’s too late for that now.”

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo answered softly. “Do you want us to leave? We can go to the Shire. I think I couldn’t…”

“I can. I guess my life works that way… having to watch others enjoy what I crave so much.” His voice was bitter and angry and sad all at once.

“I’m sorry,” the hobbit said again. “I never meant to hurt you.”

The king forced a smile. “I know. And I never meant to hurt you either, but I still did – and I knew that I was doing it. However, I will try my very best to make it up to you and maybe one day you will be able to forgive me."

“I was hurt, but I do not hold any grudge against you, Thorin Oakenshield. Not any longer.”

“Do not pity me.”

“I won’t,” Bilbo promised.

Thorin forced a smile and went for the door. He had already left the room when he turned around, looking at the hobbit. His eyes were dark and full of pain. “I have not only seen the way you are looking at Bofur, but also the way he is looking at you. Do not doubt him, Bilbo. He loves you and bearing his child will make him happier than anything else.”

Then he was gone.

 

When Bofur came back in the evening there were lines on his face that had not been there before, but as soon as he saw Bilbo they smoothened and his beaming smile returned within seconds. “How was yer day?”

Bilbo frowned. “Good… I guess. Thorin was here, and he told me quite a lot.”

Bofur raised an eyebrow and set down next to the hobbit, kissing him gently before asking: “He did?”

“Yes… apparently he has… feelings for me… and he was jealous of you.”

The dwarf gasps for air. “He hid them well,” he muttered, before frowning as well. “Does he want us to leave?”

“No, he says he can deal with it. And I wouldn’t want to rip you from your home.”

“Neither do I want to take yer Shire from ye!”

Bilbo smiled fondly. “You went on a crazy mission in order to get Erebor back, a mission that almost had you – and everyone else – killed. Repeatedly. I can't take that home you fought so hard for from you. Besides, I don’t miss the Shire any more…”

Bofur raised an eyebrow. By now the hobbit’s head was lying in his lap and if halflings were able to purr, he surely would pass off as a cat. “Ye don’t? I remember how homesick ye were…”

“Well. I remember how much it hurt when I thought I had to leave Erebor and you.” He forces a smile. “I don’t care where we live, as long as I’m with you.”

Bofur beams, but suddenly starts to cough. “Ye must think I am the cheesiest dwarf in Middle Earth…”

Bilbo cannot suppress a chuckle. “I don’t have many possibilities of comparison, but I’m a hobbit. I’m all for kitsch.”

 

The next few weeks and months were rather interesting and not particularly easy.  
Bilbo, who had terrible mood swings as any reputable male hobbit with child, spent a lot of time with Gloin who told him everything about dwarven pregnancies he may ever have wanted know… and also everything else. Apparently dwarves carried their children for about ten months, while hobbits only carried them for six… that should prove to be interesting.

It was not the only thing Bilbo was worrying about, though. Despite being a dwarf Bofur was noticeable taller than him, thus the baby would be as well – a rather troubling thought. Children carried by male hobbits were generally born by Caesarean, but he would still have to literally carry the baby. They were going to be heavy, and to eat as much as Bofur. No doubt. Bilbo happily ignored the fact that at the moment he was not only eating more than his beloved, but also rather interesting combinations. Not even Bombur wanted to think about them.

It took the hobbit a fortnight to convince Bofur that he could still work in the library, with Ori being mostly there as well. The young dwarf was able to deal with his mood swings rather well (like the one time he burst into tears because he had read about a battle, or the day when he had almost ripped an ancient script apart because it smelled badly) and if his methods did not work he knew to simply call for Bofur. That was the most effective way of calming Bilbo down, and everybody was desperate to do so – nobody had forgotten the state he had been in the last time he had been upset. Whenever someone mentioned Bilbo’s name Bofur would come running.

The two of them usually had dinner with the rest of the company, who were watching delightedly as Bilbo’s belly grew rounder and rounder. However, they (or rather the two princes) had learned quickly that teasing the hobbit was not something they wanted to do. Bilbo had snapped, scolding them like even their mother had never managed to, and then burst into tears once more. That was what they feared most, for a crying Bilbo inevitably led to a raging Bofur – and that was rather not desirable these days.

Yet, although the company knew how to handle Bilbo – the other dwarves did not. It was completely normal for male hobbits to be with child, however, the dwarves in Erebor thought him rather odd. Everyday more and more dwarves from Ered Luin were arriving, all of them starting to help repairing the damage the dragon had done the second they had put their belongings somewhere. Bilbo tried his best not to meet with anyone he did not know – which was not easy considering the amount of dwarves arriving every week – because he could not hear the questions any longer.  
The halls in the mountain were bustling with activity, Thorin and Balin coordinating everything. Bilbo had not seen the king since their conversation, though, not even at the dinner table, and he had to admit he was rather glad about it. He had absolutely no idea how to act around the other one after his confession.

 

Usually Bilbo would be home first, for Bofur spent a lot of time working on ridiculously cute (Bilbo was quite often close to drooling) crafts as cradles or clothing. Yes, he had known that the dwarf was able to mend his own clothes, but sew completely new ones? Bilbo was impressed. And cooing.

It was a late afternoon – Bilbo was already very obviously very pregnant, as Fili and Kili liked to point out – and one of the rare occasions that Bofur was the first who retired to their rooms. When Bilbo opened the door his beloved was looking at him with dark, excited eyes and the hobbit almost forgot to breathe under the intense gaze. Chuckling lowly Bofur pulled him into the room and into his arms, kissing him properly before closing the door. “There is somethin’ we need to talk about,” he said. Usually that sentence would have had Bilbo runing, but something in his lover’s voice made him stay where he was, leaning against the dwarf (as well as that was possible).

“That would be?”

“I believe that in the Shire ye are supposed to be married before ye… have children?” He blushed slightly and Bilbo chuckled.

“Yes, you are quite right.”

“Well, for us dwarves it’s not that important, but I thought…” He took a deep breath “Ye might want to marry me anyway?”

For a few seconds Bilbo was dumbstruck. Like any hobbit he had dreamed about romantic proposals at candlelight dinners, and not of an insecure question, but he knew – he would not want it any other way. Thinking this he also realized the reason for the proposal. As Bofur had said – for dwarves marriage was not really important. However…

“Of course I would like to marry you,” Bilbo smiled softly. “And please, do not worry… nobody can take me away from you. Not Thorin, and not anyone else.”

Bofur grinned sheepishly.

 

Bilbo was screaming with pain. He had tried to appear calm in the morning when Bofur had left, but now – around lunchtime (yes, that child was going to be as greedy as Bombur) – he could no longer hold back. He knew that it had been stupid, but he had not wanted to worry his beloved. Bofur seemed to be much closer to panicking than the hobbit himself when it came down to the delivery.  
The next contraction shook him violently and he could not suppress another scream.

Panting he tried to calm himself down afterwards, when he heard a shy knock at the door. “Come in!”

A rather young dwarf with brown hair opened the door. Bilbo thought he had seen him with Fili and Kili, but was not sure. “Can I help you?” He sounded rather nervous.

The hobbit nodded. “Get Gandalf, Oin and Bofur. And don’t tell anybody else!” Of course he knew that the last part would not work, but it was worth a try. After all he had no idea that said young dwarf was Gimli, who would first talk to his father and then to his princely friends. And since Fili and Kili were the worst gossips in Erebor after that the whole company would know.

However, Bilbo had different problems now. One of said problems just came running into his room, pale and close to hyperventilating. He forced himself to smile. “Calm down.”

Bofur simply ignored him. “Gandalf and Oin are on their way. How are you? Is there anything I can do? Do you-“

“Yes,” the hobbit interrupted, clenching his teeth when the next contraction came. “There is something you can do.”

“Anything,” the dwarf promised.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Breathe.”

Then Gandalf and Oin arrived, and the wizard handed him a tiny bottle filled with a luminous orange fluid. “Drink it.”

The hobbit raised his eyebrows. “That looks disgusting! And dangerous.”

“It will soothe your pain,” his old friends answered and Bilbo had drunk it faster than the others could look. He felt his whole body go numb, but the pace of his heart accelerated a great deal when he saw the scalpel in Oin’s fingers.  
Bofur paled even more.

Bilbo squeezed his beloved’s fingers a little too hard. “Bofur!”

“Y-yes?”

“You know that you are here to keep me distracted, right?”

“Yes?”

“Then take your damn eyes off the bloody scalpel and distract me, or I’m going to throw up!”

For a second the dwarf was frozen, but then he whipped around and kissed Bilbo with so much passion that the hobbit almost did not feel the dull pain in his abdomen.

They were startled by a scream, coming from a bloody, wrinkled bundle of life. Bilbo was absolutely in awe, but not sure whether he should laugh or cry when he heard the soft _thod_. Oin, who was currently stitching him up, cackled gleefully. “We are _never_ going to let him forget _that_!”

Gandalf, who was washing the baby, chuckled softly. “He is not the first father who fainted.”

“But one of the first dwarvish ones,” the healer answered.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Give me my child and wake him up,” he ordered and the wizard obeyed by splashing water into Bofur’s face.

By now Oin was done and went for the door. “I’ll tell everyone that you have a healthy daughter,” he smiled, leaving. He did not expect the whole company – including Thorin – waiting only inches behind the old wood. Of course Fili and Kili had not been able to keep their mouths shut.

Bofur’s eyes were wide and full of awe. “A daughter.”

“Probably because she’s half-hobbit,” Bilbo winked. “Now stop staring and come here!”

The dwarf shook his head. “Give me a second.” He went for one of the cupboards and came back with a small box. “I hope it fits her,” he murmured and pulled a tiny flap-eared hat out of the box, putting it onto his daughter’s equally tiny head. “She’s beautiful.”

Bilbo smiled happily. “Yes. The male dwarves are going to love her.”

Bofur’s expression could only be described as utterly horrified.

_Note: Quite a few people asked for a sequel, and wanted me to write about the girl giving Bilbo and Bofur a hard time. I usually never write sequels, but if someone else wants to write one? I would post the link here :)_


End file.
